Faith Rocks
by Beer Good
Summary: Two unrelated ficlets about Faith and rock'n'roll. In the first, Faith and Giles deal with one of the most horrible monsters they've ever come across. In the second, Faith and Willow are supposed to have a romantic evening... until VH1 intervenes.
1. Playin' My Favorite Song

**Title:** Playin' My Favorite Song  
**Author:** Beer Good  
**Rating:** Parental advisory: Explicit lyrics  
**Timeline:** Post-"Chosen"  
**Word count:** 1036  
**Disclaimer:** Faith, Giles and Vi are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Honestly. Why are you staring at me like that? Also, I know I take music much too seriously, but I really do not advocate violence towards pop singers (no matter how much they deserve it).  
**Summary: **So what happens if Faith has to babysit some of the younger slayers for a night on the town... involving a pop concert?

* * *

**Playin' My Favorite Song**

_"Saw him dancin' there by the record machine..."_

"What... the... FUCK?!?"

"Faith! Ixnay on the uckfay, there are kids all around -"

"No fucking WAY! She can't... shit! Is that a _Jackson_?"

"A what?"

"She's miming with a fucking vintage Randy Rhoads guitar! It's not even plugged _in_, for fu-mmfff!"

"Vi! Get over here, Faith's going ballistic!"

"Mmmfet off me! She's evil! I'm gonna kick her ass!"

"Faith, you can't get up on stage in front off 20,000 kids and beat up a girl just because you don't like her music!"

"Whaddyamean HER music? Lemmego!"

"Hold her down – OW!"

"Mommy! That lady broke my glowstick!"

"Who the fuck you calling 'lady', ya little -"

"Well I never! How dare you speak to my daughter like that!"

"I'm sorry, ma'm, our friend is a little upset and – I said hold her _down_!"

* * *

_Three hours later_

Giles closed the door behind him as he entered Faith's hotel room, then took off his glasses and sat down in the room's only chair. Faith barely acknowledged his presence, too busy going through her luggage searching for something. When he handed her an icepack for the shiner that was forming around her right eye, she took it with a mumbled "thanks."

"So... what is your side of the story?"

She shrugged, rolling her good eye. "I'd spent all day surrounded by people wearing pink. I was provoked. I reacted. The others thought I was out of line. We agreed to disagree."

"It took five junior Slayers to subdue you and drag you back here, kicking and screaming."

"Yeah, well, like I said; I reacted."

Giles sighed. "Faith, I sent you along to chaperone the younger Slayers who wanted to attend the Brittany Doff concert because I thought I could trust you to keep them _out_ of trouble, not cause it yourself. I really don't see what could have happened to make you lose control like that."

Faith was quiet for a few seconds before tossing the icepack aside and responding. "You wanna know? Fine. She covered 'I Love Rock'n'Roll'."

"She what?"

"She did a goddamn G-rated teenybopper version of Joan Jett's 'I Love Rock'n'Roll'. As if that little white-bred plastic Disney character would know what rock'n'roll is if Angus Young rammed his guitar up her ass! Some things are fucking _sacred_, damnit!"

"Actually, the Arrows did the original... besides, aren't you a little too young to remember Joan Jett's version?"

"Hey, Boston's got FM stations, I grew up on the classics. Shit, I'm pretty sure I grew up _because_ of'em. And there's no way I'm going to let her get away with - hey, there you are!" Faith reached deep into her bag and triumphantly pulled out a small cylindrical device, turning it on to check that there were batteries in it. It buzzed eagerly in her hand.

Giles blushed. "Um... could you wait until I've left the room, at least?"

"Relax, Giles." She held it up for him to see. "Just hairclippers, see? Thought I'd pay li'l Miss Bubblegum a visit."

"Hairclippers... surely you're not going to -"

"You bet I am. If she thinks she's butch enough to cover Joan Jett, I'm gonna make sure she looks the part. Whaddyasay, skinhead or mohawk?" Faith set the hair clippers to 0, then paused as a thought struck her. "Unless that means she'll cover 'Nothing Compares 2 U' next... oh well, I can live with that. By the way, thanks for booking us in the same hotel as her. Should be a cinch breaking in from the balcony."

"This is absurd!" Giles got up and snatched the hairclippers from Faith's hand. "Even if we ignore the fact that assaulting a teenage superstar is a deeply immoral use of your powers, or that it could get you arrested and sent back to prison, I expect you to be a good role model for the younger Slayers. I honestly thought you'd reformed, do we need to start training you again?"

"Hey, I've learned my lesson, I'm a good girl; but what sort of role model would I be if I let them think that life is about playing it safe, with pre-recorded vocals and choreographed dance moves? Rock'n'roll is low and dirty, it's supposed to make you wanna freak out, fuck and fight, and the people playing it are supposed to swig Jack D between guitar solos and choke on their own vomit! What I had to listen to tonight was a glorified Pepsi Max commercial posing as the real thing, designed to turn people into robots, and I say it's time we fight back!"

"Believe me, Faith, I'm no big fan of today's pop stars, but you must see that you are overreacting! I -" He caught the iPod Faith tossed him without thinking. It was pink, with little stars glued on. "This can't possibly be yours."

"Nah. Swiped it from one of the girls when they dogpiled me. Listen to it."

"I don't see what -"

"Just listen and then tell me I'm overreacting."

Giles cautiously put the earplugs in and hit Play. Thirty seconds later, his face had turned ashen grey and he seemed to be struggling to speak. "Oh... oh dear Lord. Wh-what _is_ this?"

Faith shot him an innocent smile. "It's Brittany Doff's cover of The Who's 'My Generation'. Ya like it?"

"It's... it's..." Giles swallowed, blinking away tears. "It's..."

"Don't it just make you wanna eat something healthy, do your homework and go to bed early? Me, I especially like the bit where she changed 'Hope I die before i get old' to 'I hope I _don't_ die before I get old'. If only Keith Moon had thought of that, he coulda had his own infomercial selling Viagra today!"

"Bloody hell." Giles tore out the earplugs, sneering in contempt.

"So?"

"I still can't let you do this. But then again..." Ripper shook his head as he tossed her the hair clippers. "I wasn't in here. This conversation never took place. I had no idea what you were about to do. Just make sure nobody sees you, alright?"

Faith grinned. "You got it, boss. One bald fashion statement comin' right up." She shoved the hair clippers in her jacket pocket and climbed out the window.

**END**  



	2. For Those About To Rock

**Title:** For Those About To Rock**  
Author:** Beer Good  
**Rating:** PG13-ish (some bad language)  
**Word Count:** 1300  
**Characters/Pairing:** Faith/Willow (established)  
**Timeline:** Unspecified post-"Chosen".  
**Disclaimer:** Joss Whedon owns characters. Mike Judge owns a concept. Angus Young and Bon Scott own all our asses, even if one of them is dead.  
**A/N:** I'm not really sure if this is fluffy, drunkfic or crack or a little bit of all three. There's also tiny hints of a crossover (in spirit, if not in body) with a certain early-90s MTV cartoon comedy.  
**Summary: **A couch, some wine, candlelight, and not-so-mellow music.

* * *

**For Those About To Rock**

Dinner and wine by candlelight is supposed to be romantic. However, when the person you're having romantic dinner with is a Slayer, with all that that implies in terms of appetite, it's also much too easy to get caught up in the shoveling of food from plate to mouth. Consequently Willow had way too much to eat and when they moved to the couch with the last bottle of wine, it took her about thirty seconds to fall asleep on Faith's shoulder.

Some time later, she was jolted awake by the sound of the TV, where a shirtless man was screaming over loud guitar chords about wanting blood. Faith was just putting the remote down after raising the volume to Willow-rousing heights, and resumed stomping the rhythm on the coffee table where the now-empty wine bottle kept edging closer to the edge of the table with each drumbeat.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Oh, hey. About an hour. Scooch a bit." Faith freed her trapped arm and put it around Willow's shoulder, giving her an extra little squeeze in the process but not looking away from the TV.

"What are we watching?"

"AC/DC marathon on VH1."

"Marathon? As in..."

"Four hours straight, baby." Faith grinned like a kid at a mid-winter present-yielding holiday of non-specified denomination.

Willow hadn't really listened to heavy metal since Xander went through that phase in 9th grade, but what the hell, the things we do for love. After rescuing the wine bottle from a short sharp trip to the floor, she cuddled up to share this experience, which obviously meant a lot to Faith. But she had to comment on the lyrics of the next song. "Um... Is that supposed to be a double entendre?"

"A what?"

"Like... he's pretending to sing about ballroom dancing, but it's really about... y'know."

Faith nodded in time to the music. "It's about his balls. They're big," she clarified as if the chorus didn't make that clear.

"That's... what I thought. Not so much with the subtle, these guys, huh? Don't they have any ballads?"

As if on cue, the band started playing a slower song. "This is a ballad, right?" Faith pointed at the lead guitarist. "See, Angus is even standing up for the whole thing."

"Well, yeah, but I mean with acoustic guitars and violins, and the candles and lighters and... Um... what?" Willow frowned and pointed to the TV, where the singer was now screaming lyrics about STDs, and could swear that she actually felt her IQ drop with every passing second. "'She gave me her body, but she gave it to anybody'? Who writes these lyrics, Beavis and Butthead?"

"It's only rock'n'roll, it doesn't need brains. Besides, if you think this is dumb, just wait 'til you get a load of Brian Johnson's lyrics. Bon Scott was a fucking poet."

"But it's just the same three chords over and over and... what?"

"Well..." Faith smirked and gave her a playful shove. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're sort of a wuss. And frankly, your taste in music sucks."

"I'm _not_! I mean..." Faith shot her a look. "OK, maybe compared to some people I am, but it doesn't! I-I rock, I bop, I've got a kick-ass CD collection, missy!"

"Right. I guess I'm gonna have to be honest here: you have... like, _Oz's_ taste in music."

"What's wrong with -"

"Whiny college rock is fine when you're in highschool, but ain't you supposed to be about as powerful as a small country by now? If you ask me, that don't really go with pink shirts and Nickelback CDs. Besides," Faith looked Willow up and down and toyed with the sleeve of her admittedly not very head-banging-inspiring frilly blouse, "I think I'm gonna make it my duty to get you to rock out more; hell, I never even got to see you in that black leather outfit."

"Leather... Oh, that one. That wasn't mine, that was – well, OK, technically it was mine, but not _mine_ mine, she wasn't... we were... um..." Willow quickly diverted her thoughts from her vampire self and briefly considered asking Faith about that _Beauty and the Beast_ soundtrack she'd found in the CD player the other day, but decided against it. OK, rocking out it is then, and since they were sitting here, the rocking might as well come with some making. Only Faith insisted on keeping the music very loud and distracting, which complicated matters; there seemed to be some sort of trick to moving in time with both the guitars and each other and Willow couldn't quite get the syncopation right. Besides, when a new song started she couldn't keep from asking something that had bugged her for some time now. "Why does the guitar player wear a school uniform in every single song anyway?"

"Because it's cool. Duh." Faith flashed her the devil horns as if to make a point.

"OK, if you start headbanging and singing along with the guitars, we might have a problem."

Faith actually looked as if she might do exactly that, but then focused on the TV again. "Oh, watch this; I think there's a full moon."

"Whaddyamean, they're indoors and... oh." Willow stared in disbelief as the skinny little guitarist proceeded to take off his school uniform mid-guitar solo and expose his pimply ass to the audience, who apparently thought it was the greatest thing ever. As did Faith, who proclaimed it to, quote, "rock", unquote. Willow failed to see the appeal. When the next song began with the whole band grunting "Oi! Oi! Oi!" in chorus over the same three chords as all the other songs had used, and Faith started grunting along under her breath, Willow decided to change tactics; three more hours of this obviously wasn't going to get any results. Instead she yawned and started getting up, tracing her fingers along Faith's neck. "OK, loud guitars and hairy manchests not really doing it for me. Think I'll go to bed... Wanna come with?"

Faith's reply was a deep sigh and a contemplative look at the ceiling. "I'm gonna have to show you, aren't I?"

"Show me what?"

Faith responded by suddenly jumping to her feet and onto the coffee table, wobbling somewhat but steady enough to start dancing to the music in a swirl of hips and guitars that made Willow think that maybe this wasn't so bad after all; with these kinds of visual aids, the rhythm was a lot easier to get into. And when Faith next combined her gyrations by singing along - "_I'm dirty, mean and mighty unclean, I'm a wanted man! Public enemy number one, understand?_" - Willow did indeed start understanding the intricacies of the lyrics as well. It didn't hurt that Faith was starting to take her clothes off, either. "_So lock up your daughter, lock up your wife_" - that was the zipper - "_Lock up your back door and run for your life!_" Let's be fair to Willow; even if she'd wanted to at this point, Faith waving her ass in her face pretty much made running a non-plan. "_The man is back in town, so don't you mess me 'round..._" In one (somewhat less Slayer-graceful than usual) movement, Faith kicked her pants halfway across the room, did a 180 off the coffee table and landed in a grinning heap on top of Willow's lap.

"Yipes."

Faith growled in her ear. "_I'm TNT, I'm dynamite_... Still wanna go to bed?"

"I _guess_ I could be persuaded to stay up..."

"No persuasion here." Faith shook her head with a patient half-smile. "Just turn off that big brain of yours and... _Watch me explooode..._ rock."

"You got it." Faith's mouth tasted of wine and... Willow just had to ask one more thing. "Did I ever tell you you're, well, kinda nuts?"

"Huh-huh-huh." Faith snickered as the guitar solo kicked in, and in one move scattered the buttons of Willow's shirt to all corners of the room. "You said 'nuts'."

**END**


End file.
